


Journey to Hell

by unwillingadventurer



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwillingadventurer/pseuds/unwillingadventurer
Summary: After the Chevalier's arrest, Fabien escorts his prisoner by carriage.





	Journey to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> After a discussion on twitter about the scene where Fabien holds his hand out to beckon the Chevalier into the carriage, this story came about after wondering about what their interactions would be on their journey back.

Fabien held out his strong gloved hand and beckoned the Chevalier to the carriage. There was little the man could do but obey him and so the Chevalier made no attempt to resist arrest and climbed into the opening that led to what resembled a dark cage for transporting the condemned to the gates of hell.

Inside the carriage, two guards were placed on either side of the Chevalier whilst Fabien sat opposite, his intense brown eyes unmoving as he focused on his prisoner and his prisoner alone. The Chevalier stared hard at first, trying his best not to let Fabien win the eye battle, but Fabien’s unblinking eyes nerved him and there was hesitation in the Chevalier’s expression. It was without surprise then that he was the first to blink. Fabien knew he had caught him already, knew the Chevalier was the spider trapped in his web.

“I must say its rather cosy in here,” the Chevalier said a moment later, looking at the two handsome guards pressed close to him. 

He had resorted to humour already, Fabien noted. Some men did, some not. Many showcased fear outwardly but the Chevalier clearly buried his fears deeper, trying desperately to keep a cool and unwavering exterior.

The Chevalier’s hand ran across his hair and he placed the long blonde curls behind his back, out of the way, desperately trying to get comfortable in the cramped space. He glanced tentatively at the guard on his left, staring up at the man who was several inches taller. He then glanced to the man on his right, also towering over him as only a guard should. The Chevalier decided to look out of the window to where the atmosphere outside matched the mood of the carriage- dark, moody and fearful.

“It’s really coming down out there,” the Chevalier squeaked nervously, “glad I’m in here as the rain does nothing for my hair.” He stifled a giggle when Fabien’s eyes bore into him again.

Fabien allowed himself a quick glance at the rain, his eyes scanning the black sky, the puddles glistening on the dark pavements lit by the dark moonlight that almost seemed to guide them back to Versailles. He stared deeply at the rain as though it was the first time he had seen it. Nothing got in the way of his duty, certainly not a simple fall of water. 

“I do not think the weather is of any consequence to you,” he told the Chevalier in a slow deep voice.

“No of course not,” the Chevalier replied as his nervous smile appeared again.

There was silence again after that, for several minutes until the Chevalier could take it no longer and was speaking again, rambling mainly. “Darkness is a funny thing is it not?

Fabien’s eyes rolled upwards and he sighed deeply. He humoured him. “How so?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We fear it because we cannot see what we are facing. The darkness seems to swallow us up as well as the light.” 

“In our case, you can see exactly what you are facing.”

The Chevalier gulped and turned his face away, shuffling, and then straightening himself up against the seat. “Of course, the rain can be quite beautiful at night especially when one isn’t standing underneath it. Covered up, you can truly appreciate it.”

“We will have silence,” Fabien said softly. 

He glanced at the Chevalier and knew the man was terrified. The Chevalier was life and soul of the party at Versailles, he was flamboyant, confident and he was Monsieur’s favourite. But how long could he pretend that he did not fear his fate?

In these situations, Fabien had come to learn that there were a few ways that men reacted to him when under scrutiny. Some men were arrogant and cocky, feeling that they acted in accordance with their own beliefs, and that no harm could befall them for simply doing their duty. Others wept for forgiveness, like pitiful creatures or hungry children begging for their supper. Then there were the ones that protested their innocence, believing deep down inside that a mistake was made. The Chevalier was of the kind who simply pretended his fate did not await him, as though his favour with Monsieur gave him a better chance. 

Fabien could see the Chevalier’s eyes darting back and forth and knew that while the man outwardly showed there was nothing to fear, that inside his stomach no doubt would be churning, that his palms would be sweaty and that no matter how close he was to his lover, that nothing was a guarantee. In this situation there was little to look forward to. How many times had he seen his accused act in this way, and how long would it take for the Chevalier to reveal that he was truly afraid?

“Surely you do not wish me to spend this whole journey in silence?” the Chevalier said.

“And what is it that you do wish?”

The Chevalier sighed. “I wish to not be here at all. I mean when you think about it, this is all a silly mistake anyway. I was merely in Paris to purchase some new fabrics.”

“We will discuss the nature of your visit to Paris when we return, though I have strong evidence to dispute your so-called… ‘shopping trip’.”

“When the Duc d’Orleans hears about this…”

Fabien smiled. He knew the bargaining chip would come out at some stage. It always did. The accused pulling out their strongest card- the person they knew in highest authority. It was a clear sign of panic to draw the card so quickly but the Chevalier was running out of options. Of course, in the Chevalier’s case his drawn card was one of the strongest of all- the king’s own brother. But Fabien knew all to well that in the world of traitors and demons, a favourite one minute could quite easily be discarded the next- the lowest card falling from the pack onto the floor, buried by the other more powerful.

“His highness has little bearing on my present investigation.”

The Chevalier’s eyes desperately tried to hold in the tears. “I am merely saying that he will not be happy with it.”

“I really wish you would be quiet.”

“Well I wish not to be. After all, if I am to be horrifically tortured and questioned and tied up like an animal, then I don’t see why I need to be silent.”

“You should save your tongue.”

The Chevalier drummed his fingers together, not keen to lift his eyes to Fabien’s demonic gaze. Instead he stared out of the window and sighed. “Oh, my love,” he whispered at the moon and the stars, “my dear beloved Philippe, can I be rescued from this? I know I’m not the angel of this tale, but I’m…”

He didn’t dare allow himself to utter that he was scared.

Fabien heard every word and it was not uncommon, not unusual for romantic declarations from those who feared their future. Had the Chevalier started to take his situation seriously or was he simply trying to take his mind off the difficult journey, or perhaps provoke sympathy from his captor? Either way, Fabien never faltered, never falling for such tricks.

“The rain has stopped.” The Chevalier was talking again and Fabien realised the man didn’t have it in his character to stay silent. Not until he could really shut him up, that was.

“Do you like the rain?” The Chevalier directed the question at one of the guards but the man remained silent as he was instructed. The Chevalier next tried to question the other guard but he too refused to budge.

“They do not speak to you and you shall not speak to them,” Fabien said, growing weary of telling the Chevalier off as though he were speaking to a petulant child.

The Chevalier’s frown slightly changed to a smirk and he leaned forward. “Then I think we should talk about you, Monsieur Marchal.”

Fabien stared hard at him, once again his eyes unmoving, refusing to react to the Chevalier’s words.

The Chevalier looked his captor up and down, glancing at his face in deep inspection. “We do not know much about you, do we?”

Fabien’s face remained taut. “We?”

“Everyone at Versailles. I mean, the king trusts you to some degree I suppose. He asks you to question us, question our motives and our sins but who has ever questioned yours?”

Fabien smiled for the briefest of moments. Men did this a lot too, began to turn the interrogation back onto him. He would not give him the satisfaction of a response.

“In any case,” the Chevalier continued, “it is easy to be where you are now, looking down upon us, convinced you know all the answers.”

“The answers come when we are patient,” Fabien simply replied.

He kept his eyes fixed on his prisoner and could see the man was starting to crack under the strain. Fabien may not have started the physical torture yet or begun firing rounds of questions, asking for names, places and conspirators, but this was the game he played. The Chevalier may not have realised it but the interrogation had already started with two simple eyes fixed on him, inspecting him, reading him, deducing. 

“How many times have I ridden this road to Versailles?” the Chevalier said.

Fabien noted the shift in topic. They never focused on the reverse interrogation for too long. 

“A carriage ride to hell with you to lead me to flame and darkness.”

Fabien showed no expression. “You have paved the road yourself.”

The Chevalier thought for a moment and Fabien could see him trying to think of a response. He was surprised to see a tiny smile emerge from the prisoner.

“The road that is paved can be…unpaved,” the Chevalier said. “I shall wait for my Philippe to intercede. I am not doomed just yet.”

“No not yet. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Silence again and Fabien continued to stare at the Chevalier, never allowing him a moment to think he was free. 

The Chevalier turned away again and gazed out of the window as the blackness whizzed by. He had no clue where he was, or more importantly, no clue where he was headed. He sighed deeply. “It’s started to rain again.”


End file.
